


Cabin in the Woods

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Casual Drug Use, F/M, Family Bonding, Gen, M/M, Male Bonding, Shenanigans, and you know shitty, boys weekend, cause shitty is there, coach and jack bonding, coach spends the weekend with jack, mainly coach POV, no toxic masculinity, talking about love, weekend in a cabin, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: Coach spends the weekend at the Zimmermann cabin in Nova Scotia to try to get to know Jack and Bob better.  And of course, Shitty is there, too. Talk about love, future grandkids, and bonding ensues.Now with artwork!  :D





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just love the idea of Coach being "forced" to join these yahoos for a couple days and realizing 1.) How much Jack and Bob love Junior 2.) How kooky Shitty is 3.) Them being sweet to each other and connecting. No male posturing, none of that garbage.
> 
> Thanks to [zim-tits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beansprean/pseuds/zim-tits) who made these freaking awesome drawings for the fic. I was the lucky winner of her milestone followers contest. Yeet!

Coach woke to the smell of coffee brewing and the gentle sounds of familiar gurgling. Coffee machines were comforting in that they smelled and sounded alike whether you were in Madison or somewhere in Canada. He stretched and climbed out of bed, shuffled over to his window. Snow, snow as far as the eye could see, and his eyes saw a lot of it. At least the ocean was mighty pretty.

“Well all right then,” he said with a sigh. 

It was quiet outside, which he had been used to living his entire life in Small Town USA, but there was something different about this quiet. It was intense, foreign... _Canadian_ somehow. 

The plan was for the Jack, Shitty, Bob, and Coach to spend the weekend at the Zimmermann cabin in Ingonish surrounded by a forest on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other. 

Bitty and Jack had become engaged over the holidays, and Bob had surprised everyone by planning a weekend for them at the cabin: the grooms, the best man, and the fathers of the grooms. Bitty, however, thought this would be a great opportunity for Coach to bond with everyone, so he removed himself from the weekend equation. 

Bob appeared hurt at first, but Bitty quickly explained, “Now Dad Bob, I appreciate this and love you so much but I’m gonna bow out of the weekend. It’ll be a great chance for Coach to get to know y’all better. And if I’m not around, no buffer. He’ll have to talk.”

Bob smiled a wide conspiratorial smile. “Pretty sneaky, son. I like it.”

Bitty winked, and so Coach found himself out in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere with his future son-in-law, future in-law, and his future… _Shitty-in-law_? Coach wasn’t sure what to label Shitty, but there he was.

When Coach agreed to the trip (after strong _encouragement_ from Suzanne), he had pictured the Zimmermann cabin to be more highbrow and had resigned himself to a weekend of feeling like a bull in a china shop. When they finally arrived late at night, however, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

Coach was pleasantly surprised with what he found: an unassuming cabin with thick knotty walls, large windows, a large fireplace, and modest furnishings. The largest splurge appeared to be the kitchen. He also noticed there wasn’t a television in the living room, which really surprised him. Overall, the cabin was lived in, and cozy. 

He slipped on some jeans and his Bulldogs sweatshirt, and made his way to the kitchen where he was greeted by another welcoming aroma.

“Something smells good,” Coach said as he walked in.

“It’s a mushroom and sausage frittata. Eric’s recipe, actually,” Bob said as he handed Coach a mug. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept hard,” Coach said and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Half and half is in the fridge if you need any. Sugar’s on the table,” Bob said as he pointed with his head.

“No, this is fine, thanks,” Coach said and watched Bob chop some fruit. “Did you go to the store this morning?”

Bob smiled as he sliced some strawberries. “A local family looks after the cabin for us. They get it ready whenever we come into town and get groceries for us as well.”

“Oh,” Coach replied and blew onto his mug. “So, we the only two awake?”

Bob smiled. “Shitty and Jack are still asleep. It seems they had a lot of catching up to do. It’s been a while since they were roomies. I could hear them laughing well into the night.”

“So that, uh, Shitty fellow is something else, huh?”

Bob laughed. “That he is. But, you always know where you stand with him. He has a good heart, you know, and has always been there for Jack, so that’s all the counts, right?”

Coach raised his coffee mug to toast Shitty. “Sure does. And I get it. I’m grateful to him because he looked after Junior and took him under his wing when he arrived at Samwell.” He took another sip. “I’ll always owe him for that.”

Coach stood quietly and then walked around the kitchen as he took it all in. Even though his son wasn’t there, he could feel Junior’s presence. There were pie-patterned oven mitts on the counter. A few pie tins hung from the wall. There was even a small framed photograph on the shelf of Junior rolling some dough and laughing. It sat on top of a copy of _The Gift of Southern Cooking_. Coach picked it up and smiled.

Bob walked up to Coach as he wiped his hands with a dish towel. “Jack took that picture. It was taken almost two years ago when the boys came out here for Thanksgiving.”

“You just can’t get Junior away from the kitchen, huh? He loves it.”

Bob smiled, “He does. Sometimes I feel this is more his kitchen than anyone else’s.” Bob paused then continued. “Rick, I know this isn’t your ideal situation but Eric is really hoping we could get to know each other. Alicia and I already consider him part of the family.”

Coach nodded, “Junior’s a great kid. I’m glad you think so, too.” 

“And, well, we hope in time you’ll see us as family, too,” Bob added.

Coach didn’t know what to say but was saved by a raucous entrance into the kitchen.

“Is that Bitty’s mushroom sausage frittata I smell‽ Out-fucking-standing!” Shitty yelled as he came into the kitchen. He wore a ratty pair of boxer shorts, a t-shirt with the AARP logo on it, and a plaid trapper hat. 

“Morning, Papa. Morning, Coach,” Jack said as he walked in behind Shitty.

“Perfect timing! Everyone grab a plate and help yourself,” Bob said, took off his apron and set it down on the counter.

“So, what do we wanna do for the next couple days?” Shitty asked as he gave himself a big helping of frittata. Coach smirked as he took in Shitty’s outfit. 

“Rick?” Bob asked.

“Oh! I don’t know. This here is your domain. I’m just trying not to turn into a popsicle out there.”

“So ice fishing it is,” Bob said.

“Papa,” Jack pleaded. “He’s kidding, Coach.”

“Rick knows I’m kidding, Jack. Come on,” Bob said. “We have plenty of food—Joe got us some steaks, potatoes, bacon, sandwich fixings, Betty made us some of her famous pasta salad. So we’re set on the food front.”

“We can watch the game,” Jack suggested.

Bob shook his head. “Eric made me promise there would be no television this weekend. I had Joe put it away.”

“Oh,” Jack and Coach both said at the same time. 

“Besides, when was the last time you had three days off during the season, Jack?”

Shitty cleared his throat, “And I also have this.” He tossed a plastic baggie onto the table.

“Is that... a joint?” Coach asked.

Shitty nodded as Jack groaned and dragged his hands down his face. 

“How did you get that? We’ve only been here a day?” Jack asked incredulously. “And where did you have it right now? You don’t have any pockets, Shits.”

Shitty wagged his eyebrows as Jack threw up his arms. 

“Jack here doesn't smoke, so I figured we could just go outside for a bit when we’re good and ready,” Shitty said.

Coach frowned, “Hell, I haven’t done that since… well, since high school.” 

Bob laughed, “We can pretend we’re in high school.”

“Coach, please ignore that this ever happened,” Jack said as he took the baggie, got up, flung it in a kitchen drawer and shot Shitty and Bob a stern look.

Shitty and Bob looked at one another and began to grin.

“ _I_ thought we could play some games. We have Catan, Scrabble, Risk—” Jack said.

“Did you bring Cards Against Humanity?” Shitty asked.

“No,” Jack quickly answered.

“We don't have to decide right now,” Bob replied calmly. “Let's just play it by ear.”

They ate their breakfast quietly.

 

Later, Bob and Shitty were engaged in a very aggressive game of War on the coffee table in the living room. They laughed and called one another a cheater.

Jack sat in an enormous armchair as he read a book, while Coach sat at the opposite end of the room and perused a worn and dog-eared copy of _Birds of Nova Scotia_. He looked up and studied Jack briefly. 

Here was a young man that seemed so different from Coach and Shitty. He wasn’t loud or boisterous. His phone was precariously perched on the armrest—presumably waiting for a call from Junior.

How did they end up in love? Junior had always been outgoing, chatty. Was this a case of opposites attracting? No, they were also alike in many ways it would appear. Both boys driven, dedicated to their sport, introverted. For as loud as Junior could be sometimes—lord, that boy could talk—Coach knew that his son would also hide within himself, only letting a few people really and truly in.

Coach had always known about Junior, and never reproached him. He just had no idea how to talk about it with him. When Junior finally told him about his relationship with Jack (after Coach and the entire world had pretty much figured it out at the same time) he would admit that it took some getting used to.

Suzanne and Coach had exchanged quiet whispers late at night in their bed, worried about the difficulties Junior might face. They worried about his relationship with “a much older millionaire,” lamenting the grandchildren they would no longer have… until Suzanne spoke up and assured Coach, well, why couldn’t they still have grandchildren? So they assuaged their fears and accepted the relationship, confident in Junior’s ability to surround himself with only the kindest, the best, the most sincere.

Jack interrupted Coach’s train of thought. 

“My grandmother got that book for me when I was a kid,” Jack said. 

“You birdwatched?”

“More like bird stalked. They’d fly away anytime I’d get too close and then I’d run after them hoping they’d change their mind.”

Coach smiled. “Junior would do that with squirrels.”

“Squirrels?” 

“That boy loved squirrels when he was a kid, he was obsessed with trying to pet one.”

Jack beamed.

“He was the cutest little boy. Skinny, tiny thing, with this big noggin. You won’t believe how many times Suze and I had to fish him out of a tree. He’d climb them the second he got a chance trying to get close to those damn squirrels.”

Jack chuckled.

“Finally, one day a carnival was in town for the Peach Fest and this one carnie had his pet squirrel with him. He was charging folks a dollar to let them pet the thing. It was on a leash and everything. Junior said he’d just die if he couldn’t pet Mr. Pickles. Junior’s eyes lit up so bright, I gave him ten dollars and he was in heaven.”

“When Bittle’s into something, he really does go all the way,” Jack said fondly as Coach nodded.

“I think he would have stolen that squirrel given half the chance,” Coach said as he laughed. “He said Señor Bun needed a brother.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m done,” Bob cried out and flung his cards onto a pile on the table. “At this rate, we’ll never finish our game.”

“Looks like maybe we should all play something?” Coach said.

“Agreed,” Jack replied.

**+++**

They sat in the kitchen in the middle of another round of poker, pretend-smoking pretzel rod cigars, when Jack’s phone rang. Coach immediately recognized the ringtone as _Georgia on My Mind_. Jack quickly reached for it, and his face burst into a smile when he answered.

“Oh shit… that grin, that song, it can only be one person. Tell Bits I said hi,” Shitty called out.

Jack waved Shitty off and said hello.

“Hey, bud. No, you’re not interrupting. We’re just playing cards and thinking about heading into town for lunch,” Jack said blissfully smiling, unaware that three sets of eyes watched him. “Miss you, too. So much.”

Coach noticed how soft-spoken Jack became, how tender his voice sounded. He had seen enough Falconers games to know that Jack could look like a first class warrior goon when necessary. He'd heard him described as a hockey robot more than enough times. But here, right now, those Jacks were a million miles away. 

When Jack looked up, he paused and blushed. “Uh… hold on.” He got up from the chair and began to walk toward the living room.

“He loves you and is miserable without you, Bitty boy!” Shitty yelled.

“Is he always like that when he talks to Junior?” Coach asked.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Shitty said with a snort. “Trying to get these two apart practically takes an act of god. They’re like glued at the fucking hip. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bro as in love as Jack.”

“And it’s crazy to think they couldn’t stand each other when they first met,” Bob said as he smiled and shook his head.

“Is that so?” Coach asked incredulously. “I mean, Junior mentioned his new Captain was tough, but he never really went into details.”

“One time they actually yelled at each other on the ice during practice. It was awesome,” Shitty said. “Jack was so mad, and I thought Bitty was about to bust out a ‘bless your heart.’”

Bob laughed. “Soon, they became friends. And then, whenever Jack was home, he’d always be texting or chatting with Eric. He’d tell us, ‘He’s a friend. I’m his captain—I’m just checking on him.’ But I knew. Or had my suspicions at least.”

Coach leaned back in his chair and watched Jack in the living room. His shoulders were relaxed, he smiled softly the entire time, he laughed and his eyes practically sparkled. Hell, that was definitely the look of a man in love. 

“And then when I saw them together at Jack’s graduation, well, I definitely knew,” Bob said with a smile.

Jack glanced up and briefly locked eyes with Coach. He blushed again and turned. Coach quickly sat back.

Shitty looked at Coach with an enormous smirk on his face, “Told you.”

**+++**

They drove into town for a late lunch at Bob’s favorite diner where everyone seemed to know everyone there.

“Hey, Bob!” The man behind the counter called.

“Gary, good to see you,” Bob called back. 

“Good to see you, too. Go on and have a seat.”

The four walked over to a booth near the window. It began to snow lightly. Coach watched as it drifted and settled on the large mounds of snow which already surrounded them. 

Gary came back with four laminated menus and plopped them onto the table. “What brings you into town?” 

“Just a little weekend getaway. Gary, this is Rick, Jack’s soon-to-be father-in-law,” Bob said as he motioned toward Coach.

“That so? Nice to meet you,” Gary said.

“Same here.”

“And you remember Shitty?” Bob said with a broad smile.

“How could I forget?” Gary said with a chuckle.

Shitty wagged his eyebrows, “What can I say? I am unforgettable.”

“Congrats, Jack.”

“Thanks, Gary,” Jack said shyly.

“Bob here was so excited when you got engaged. He rushed in here the next time he was in town and announced it to everyone. He said, ‘My son is getting married! He’s in love and he’s getting married!”

Everyone laughed as Jack buried his face in his hands.

“I’ll let you all look at the menu and be right back,” Gary said as he poured them some water.

“So, Rick, is Suzanne going nuts over wedding planning?

“I think she talks to your wife more than her own mother now.”

“Oh boy,” Bob laughed. 

“Jack, uh, you helping with any of the planning?” Coach asked as he tried to engage him.

“Euh, I told Bits what kind of pies I want,” Jack scratched his head. “I mean, whatever he wants is fine with me. I just told him that I’d like fried chicken at the reception.”

Coach barked out a laugh. “Hell, that’s a good request.”

“I just really like fried chicken,” Jack said. “And Mama Bittle and Maman are so excited to plan it. Bits and I just shared what we definitely _didn’t_ want and are pretty much leaving the rest in their hands. That and Bits has a wedding Pinterest that they’re supposed to reference?” 

“Suzanne does love her Pinterest,” Coach said. “And I’m sure she’ll follow whatever Junior wants.”

Jack shrugged, “I just want whatever makes him happy… and chicken.” Everyone laughed as Jack continued, “And really, the only thing I care about is the ceremony. That’s what’s important to me. Just us being together, forever.”

“That beautiful, brah,” Shitty said with a faux sniff as Bob let an actual sniff escape.

Coach smiled. “So, what’s good here?”

“Everything,” Bob, Shitty, and Jack replied.

After lunch, they walked over to the local coffee shop, as Jack and Shitty roughhoused ahead of Bob and Coach.

“How about I toss you into that snowbank? A repeat performance of the leaf pile incident? Bitty’s not here to save you now, man” Jack teased.

“How about I tell Coach all of your most swawesomely embarrassing Samwell moments?”

“Shits,” Jack warned.

“Jacques,” Shitty retorted.

It was nice for Coach to see Jack like this. He was so used to seeing the quiet, reserved Jack Zimmermann, that seeing this side of him was surprising—in a good way.

“I wonder how the Montreal cohort is doing?” Bob asked.

“I know Suzanne was excited to spend a couple days with Alicia… something about finalizing the color scheme? And if I know Junior, I can guarantee you he’s spoiling them right now.”

“I’m sure of it. I know Alicia was thrilled about having Eric to herself all weekend. She mentioned macaron lessons. All I know is, she loves Eric and she and Suzanne have really gotten close, so she was excited for the weekend as well.”

Bob smiled and clapped Coach on the back as they approached the coffee shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coach gets a little more comfortable with the group. Shitty helps facilitate that. Fluff! Just lots of fluff, too, as Jack is a smitten kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: casual drug use in this chapter. They light up a blunt and get silly.

Bob, Shitty, Jack, and Coach entered the Chocolate Moose Coffee House and got in line. A few people did a double take when they saw Jack, and a triple take when they saw Bob. Shitty happily waved at them all.

Coach glanced over at the pastries on display, wondering if he’d have room for a Nanaimo bar. He could hear Jack and Shitty animatedly discussing flowers of all things.

“I think Maman and Mama Bittle were going to be looking at flowers, too,” Jack said. “I know Bits definitely wants us to have sweet pea and rosebud boutonnieres.”

“Noice,” Shitty responded.

“Sweet peas?” Coach asked.

“‘Chyeah, that’s what Bitty calls Jack, you know,” Shitty said as they moved closer to the front of the line.

Coach’s lips quirked into a tiny smile. “How about that?”

“What?” Bob asked.

“Oh, it’s just that that’s what I call my wife. Sweetpea.”

Shitty and Bob both grinned as Jack wrinkled his brow. “You call Suzanne sweetpea?”

“Sure do,” Coach replied.

Shitty then stage-whispered, “And Jack calls him bud—but it’s not short for [buddy](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/163681482004/jack-zimmermann-headcanon),” as he watched Jack squirm.

Bob came to his rescue. “Jack, did you still want to stop at Firelog?”

“Yeah, can we? I mean, if that’s okay with everyone.”

“Firelog Books is the small bookstore in town,” Bob clarified.

“Sure,” Coach replied.

The four of them walked quietly to the bookstore and enjoyed the warmth of their coffee in hand. The bookstore was only a few blocks away, but by the time they reached it, Coach was chilled to the bone.

“You doing okay, Coach?” Shitty asked.

“Just have to get used to it, I guess. I’ll get there,” he replied.

They entered the bookstore, and Jack immediately went to the history section, while Shitty wandered off to the fiction section. Bob and Coach perused the magazines.

“This is one of Jack’s favorite stores in town. He says he loves the smell of it. This boy and his books. I swear, if he hadn’t gone with hockey I’m sure he would have ended up in academia somehow.”

Coach picked up an issue of _Sports Illustrated_ , looked at the cover briefly, then put it back down. “If I hadn’t ended up coaching, I’m sure I would have been a full-time history teacher. As it is, I teach world history at least two semesters a year. With budget cuts and all, they can’t hire more teachers. And since my degree’s in history...”

“Hold on, your degree is in history?” Bob asked.

Coach nodded, “Yeah, with a sports science minor. Why?”

“You know Jack was a history major, right?”

“Huh? Maybe I knew that?”

“You two should have way more to talk about than you realize,” Bob said with a chuckle.

Just then Shitty ran up to them and plopped a book in front of them. “Here you go, double gramps. It’s never too early to start planning!” He then ran off again.

Coach picked up the book. It was a children’s picture book. “ _Z is for Zamboni_?”

Bob laughed, “He does have a point.”

“How about we let them get married first? Then we talk grandkids.”

Bob tucked the book under his arm and continued to look at the magazines. “Do you… ever think about it?”

Coach shrugged, “I hate to be a naysayer but they are going to have so many roadblocks ahead of them, I don’t think I’ve let myself think that far. Society isn’t as forgiving as we’d like to think it is. Although, Suze and I have talked about it some.”

“Times have changed. It doesn’t have to be difficult—they have options, the means, our support,” Bob said.

“People aren’t always kind,” Coach said.

“Our boys, however, are both very strong and brave,” Bob responded simply.

Coach let himself think about it. A tiny child with big brown eyes, bouncing on his knee, asking for a piggyback ride; someone he could take to games and buy popcorn and a Coke for.

“I could be someone’s pop-pop one day, huh?”

Shitty reappeared, “Here you go, pop-pop!” He slammed down a copy of _Football with Dad_ and disappeared once again. Coach looked at the book and his mouth sprouted a tiny grin.

Jack emerged a few minutes later with a stack of books in his arms. “Sorry! Sorry! I’m ready. I just couldn’t decide which cookbook to get Bits. So I’m getting both I was looking at.”

Coach smiled and took the football book to the register.

They made their way back to the Jeep and tried to figure out what to do next.

“We have a 1,000 piece puzzle, too. It’s of the HMCS Protecteur,” Jack said excitedly as he swung his Firelog tote bag.

“Bo-ring,” Shitty shot back.

“T.V. is definitely off the table? To watch the game?” Coach asked.

“What game?” Bob replied.

“Any game?”

Shitty laughed. “I think Bits would know somehow. And by somehow, it’s because Jack would totally blab.”

They all turned to look at Jack who shrugged and nodded.

 

By the time they made it back to the cabin, it was decided they’d humor Shitty and play Never Have I Ever.

“Never have I ever played,” Bob said as they pulled into the garage.

“There’s a first time for everything, BB,” Shitty said and clapped Bob’s shoulder from the back seat.

As they walked toward the front door Bob asked Jack to get some more firewood.

“I think we still have plenty inside,” Jack replied as Shitty tripped him and laughed.

“Jesus, you two,” Bob called out. “Fine, but if we need more you’ll have to get it later, Jack.”

Shitty made some nachos for everyone as they got settled in. Each one with a drink in hand, they sat around the coffee table in the living room.

“So how do you play this?” Coach asked and took a long pull of his beer.

“We go around and ask a question, it can be as personal—” Shitty started.

“Or not,” Jack interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, or not, as you’d like it to be. And you start the question with, ‘Never have I ever...’ And if you _have_ done the thing, you have to take a drink,” Shitty said as he smiled deviously.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Bob said.

“I, for one, am glad I don’t have Bad in my name,” Coach said.

“Haha,” Jack snorted with glee.

“Anyway, the point is usually to get shitfaced and nasty, but today we’ll say the point is for Coach to get to know all of us a little better and vicey-versey,” Shitty said as he raised his drink in a toast.

“Can I go first?” Bob asked.

“Go ahead, Papa.”

Coach sat up tall and braced himself as Bob said, “Never have I ever blamed farts on an animal.”

Shitty laughed as Jack looked at his father completely scandalized. They all glanced at one another and took a drink.

“Go on, Jack,” Bob said. “You’re next.”

Jack thought about it for a moment, then said, “Never have I ever tasted pet food.”

Coach laughed, “You trying to go easy on us—” just as Shitty took a drink.

They all stared at Shitty.

“What? Like you’ve never been curious‽”

After the laughter died down, it was Shitty’s turn. “Never have I ever bought myself a Happy Meal.”

Jack’s eye grew wide.

“Shit just got real, Jackabelle!” Shitty cried out.

Coach, Bob, and Shitty took a drink. Jack sat there, swallowed and then slowly brought his glass to his lips. Everyone roared with laughter.

“I was hungry!” Jack protested. “And tired! And on a roadie!”

“It’s fine, Jack,” Bob said. “Even Tyler Seguin chows on McDonald’s every now and then. It’s not a crime.”

And so the game continued as they asked about stepping in dog poop (no’s all around), singing karaoke (“Eye of the Tiger” was Bob’s go-to song), pretending to laugh at a joke they didn't get (“I still have no idea what ‘Gangnam Style’ is,” Jack sighed.) And Coach found he was having fun. The alcohol might have helped, but he was genuinely enjoying himself.

“Never have I ever cried while watching _Beaches_ ,” Shitty said by the time the group had achieved a slight buzz.

They all looked at each other as if they were in some sort of weird Western cowboy face off, then they all took a drink. So it was no surprise that later that night, all four of them sat huddled together on the couch around Jack's laptop and watched _Beaches_.

“Bad Bob,” Shitty said in between tears as C.C. sang at the end of the movie, “did you ever know that you’re my hero?”

All four of them sniffled quietly and watched the end credits roll.

“That’s almost as bad as when Shelby dies in _Steel Magnolias_ ,” Coach said quietly. Everyone erupted in cries.

“Poor Shelby,” Bob said as he held a throw pillow close to his chest.

“Open your eyes, Shelby! Open your eyes!” Shitty wailed.

Jack put down the laptop and rose. “Okay, that’s enough of that. I’m going to the bathroom, and then I’ll start dinner.”

“You’re cooking tonight, son?” Bob asked.

“Sure. I have picked up a thing or two from Bits, you know. I’m not hopeless around the kitchen.”

“All right. Shitty and I will clean up the kitchen. The breakfast dishes are still there,” Bob said.

Coach noticed the fire began to die down, so he got up to put more logs on but saw they were out.

“I’ll get some more firewood,” Coach called out as he walked to the door and put on Jack’s parka which was flung across a chair. He slipped into Jack’s boots as well.

The crunch of the snow under Coach’s feet sounded like thunder compared to the silence that surrounded him. The night was still and he could hear the waves nearby. His breath shot out in front of him. Lord, it was cold. He made his way to the pile of firewood and gathered up five logs, then heard crunching behind him.

“Jack, that you?”

Coach turned and found himself locking eyes with the largest moose he’d ever seen in his entire life. It was about ten feet away from him, just under an enormous fir tree.

“Holy fucking shit…” he whispered softly.

The moose stared at Coach, as it began to lick its lips and click its teeth.

“Uh…. Jack… Jack…” Coach croaked out as the moose continued to stare and take one uneasy step toward him. “JAAAAAAAACK!”

Jack’s head popped up in the window behind Coach, and Coach turned slowly as he hugged the logs tightly to him. Jack squinted, then his eyes grew into enormous saucers.

“PAPA!” Jack yelled out from inside.

Jack opened the door and slowly walked out onto the porch, barefoot. The moose watched them both and took another step toward them.

“Moose are typically nonaggressive, solitary animals. I think this bull is just hungry…” Jack whispered.

“I sure as shit don’t want to be its dinner.”

“No worries, it’s an herbivore,” Jack said as he approached Coach slowly. “And they’re lazy as hell, too, so I don’t think it will charge.”

The moose clicked its teeth once again and took another step closer.

“On the count of three, I am going to throw a log in that direction over there, and we’ll fucking run like hell into the cabin,” Jack said. His voice sounded strained.

Coach nodded, and Jack slid a log from underneath his arms. “One, two,” Jack flung the log and the moose, in turn, ran toward it, “THREE!”

Jack and Coach scrambled into the house screaming and fell inside as Jack kicked the door shut. The two remained momentarily stunned, on their backs, covered in snow as Shitty and Bob ran into the living room.

“What the hell happened?” Bob asked.

“Holy shit! Did you two get into a kerfuffle? Don’t punch him, Coach! He’s too beautiful!” Shitty shouted.

Coach and Jack looked at one another, then began to laugh hysterically.

**+++**

The four sat in front of the fireplace. Laughing still at what could have been a potentially dangerous situation.

“Sorry, Eric. Your father and fiancé both met their end at the hands—or hooves, I guess— of a moose. I’d never hear the end of it,” Bob said through his laughter, though clearly shaken up.

“I’m surprised it actually started to head toward us,” Jack said.

“Just like in the movies, my goddamn life passed before my eyes,” Coach said.

“And?” Shitty asked.

Coach paused and considered. “Overall, not bad. Not bad at all.” Everyone laughed.

Shitty pulled out the baggie from his pocket and said, “Let’s up the ante, shall we?” Shitty lit the joint then passed it to Bob who took a hit and, in turn, handed it to Coach.

“Not a word of this to Suzanne,” Coach said to Jack, “—or Junior.”

Jack mimicked zipping his lips shut and smirked. “A word of what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to finish making dinner.” Jack got up and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Jack’s got quite the arm on him,” Coach said. “He could have been a star quarterback.”

“Too bad hockey is his second love,” Bob said.

“Second?”

“Yes, after your son,” Bob replied then inhaled deeply.

“Right,” Coach said. “He really does love him, doesn’t he?”

“More than anyone or thing,” Bob said confidently. “They’ll both be very happy together, for a very long time.”

“It’s true,” Shitty began. “You know the kiss on the ice, they really didn’t think things through. It was just a spur of the moment impulse… but you know what Jack said the next day? He said he _had_ to kiss Bitty. He just had to.” Shitty smiled. “And in that moment, Jack showed everyone that Bitty was the most important thing to him in the entire universe. He had to kiss him. So he did.”

Coach smiled, and let himself be happily carried away by the effects of the drug. And after a while, Shitty, Bob and Coach were totally mellowed out as Jack called them to dinner.

Dinner was a frenzied affair as Coach, Bob and Shitty stuffed their faces. Jack laughed, “I wish I could take a picture of this and send it to everyone. Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Munchies are no joke, son,” Bob said in between forkfuls of baked potato.

“And don’t think for one fucking minute, I did not notice that ‘y’all’ you just let drop. I may be as baked as this potato, but I still have ears,” Shitty called out.

Coach laughed so hard, he snorted.

 

After dinner, they all gathered in front of the fireplace again. Shitty had his head in Jack’s lap and happily hummed the Oscar Mayer hot dog song.

After the latest fit of laughter died down, Shitty said, “Fireplaces always remind me of fire pits and fire pits always remind me of hot dogs and hot dogs always remind me of Fourth of July. So now I want to blow stuff up and eat a hot dog.”

“We just ate, Shits.”

“What was it your papa, a very wise man, said?”

“Munchies are no joke,” Bob repeated.

Coach’s sat quietly and as a thought occurred to him. He quickly did the mental math and did not like the numbers he came up with.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Were you and Junior already together when you spent Fourth of July with us?”

“Uh… yes?”

“And you two slept in the same bedroom?”

“Uh…” Jack’s face turned bright red.

“On the same bed‽”

Shitty sat up and guffawed. “Jack! You are _so_ busted, dude.”

Bob shook his head in mock disapproval. “I thought we raised you better than that, son.”

“So what exactly happened?” Coach asked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Exactly?”

Coach held up a hand, “You know what? No, nevermind. I don’t need to know the details. Just know that I don’t appreciate that behavior… in hindsight.”

Jack nodded and remained silent.

Bob practically wheezed, “Jack, you should see your face! _Mon dieu_!”

Shitty was on the phone in the blink of an eye, “Lards! Oh my fucking god, you cannot believe what I just witnessed right now!”

“Shitty!” Jack yelled out.

Coach shook his head, and then couldn’t help but laugh. Jack looked like he wanted to hide under a rock.

“Hell, well now that you two are going to get married there’s no point in getting all bent outta shape about it.”

Jack mumbled an apology and Coach leaned over and patted him on the shoulder.

**+++**

“You know what I love most about her?” Shitty said as he balanced a bag of Smarties on his stomach and popped a few in his mouth. “That woman is not afraid of anything. I mean, who else wouldn’t think twice of challenging men over a foot taller than her to beer pong and totally rubbing her wins in their faces?”

“Lardo is pretty terrific,” Jack said as he took a handful of candies from the bag.

“What’s her real name, Shitty?” Coach said. “Because I know her parents did not name that child Lardo.”

“Larissa. Larissa Duan,” Shitty replied wistfully.

“Son, what’s _your_ real name?” Coach asked.

Bob and Jack both leaned in as Shitty opened his mouth. Shitty raised an eyebrow at them, then sat up, crawled toward Coach and whispered in his ear. Coach’s eyes widened.

“Well, shit—that’s… hell, I’d go by Shitty, too, to be honest,” Coach replied.

Bob and Jack both threw their arms up.

“No fair,” Jack said as Coach and Shitty shrugged.

“Anyhoo… what do you love most about Ms. Coach?” Shitty asked.

Coach rubbed at his chin as he sat back and thought about it. “I love that she’s one of the sweetest people I know. She worries so much about others, and loves taking care of people—but she doesn’t take any crap from anyone. She’ll still be polite about it, but she’ll let you know when she’s had enough. She’s a real spitfire.”

Jack laughed. “Sounds just like Bits.”

“Those two are cut from the same cloth,” Coach added. “And if they love you, they’re both—how do you kids say it? Ride or die. Yep, that’s Suze and Junior.”

“Coach!” Shitty said. “Did you know that Jack sings John Denver’s _Annie’s Song_ and calls it Bitty’s Song?”

“Oh, Jack,” Coach said with a frown. “That’s pretty dang cheesy.”

Jack replied with a smirk, “As the kids say, no regrets.”

Shitty laughed.

“What about you, Bob?” Coach asked with still chuckling.

Bob smiled. “You know, the first time I saw Alicia she told me she didn’t date jocks. We were both at a party for Vanity Fair back in 1985. I was Wayne’s plus one and was pretty much there to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Not really. Wayne was there because he heard Cindy Crawford would be there.”

“I love this story,” Shitty mumbled.

“So I was eating all the cocktail shrimp and Alicia said, ‘You know, there might be other people who would like some shrimp, too.’ I turned to look at her and had cocktail sauce all over my face. The look she gave me would have melted stone.”

“Wait, so was Cindy Crawford there?” Coach asked.

“No, she never showed up. Anyway, Alicia was the first woman who looked at me for me. She wasn’t impressed that I was a hockey player. She finally went out on a date with after we were both at this ASPCA fundraiser and one of the dogs that were there had an accident. She said she liked that I cleaned it up instead of yelling at someone else to do it.” Bob grinned. “I liked that she kept me on my toes, and still does. She’s funny as hell and smart as a whip.”

“Bitty… Bitty is just perfect, you know?” Jack said. “Even when he doesn’t know something, he’s still perfect. Papa, remember when we came here the first time and went snowmobiling and Bits couldn’t remember what they were called. And he called them jet skis for the snow? Remember?”

Jack chuckled at his own memory, and Bob shook his head with a goofy smirk.

“Shit, cut this boy off,” Shitty called out. “Cut this boy off! Get one more drink in him, and he’ll pull up Bitty’s figure skating videos on YouTube.”

Coach’s face bloomed into an enormous grin as he watched Jack’s smitten face.

**+++**

The next morning, most of the group woke slightly worse for wear. Coach’s mouth felt as though he had slept with a dozen cotton balls in it. He turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost eight. Coach pulled on the clothes he took off last night and made his way to the kitchen. Jack was in there drinking a protein shake, as Bob sat at the kitchen table with his head down.

“Cereal? I can make cereal,” Bob groaned.

“How strong was that joint?” Jack asked as he stared at Coach. “No offense, but you two look awful.”

“Coffee?” Coach croaked out.

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll get a pot going.”

“Please, don’t say pot,” Bob moaned. “Ever again.”

Shitty strolled into the kitchen humming a show tune. “Morning, gents.”

“How the hell are you so chipper?” Bob asked cradling an empty coffee mug.

“Immunity! I’ve built it over the years. Don’t blame me because you two are lightweights,” Shitty said as he pulled out a chair and plopped down.

“Bless your heart,” Coach mumbled.

Jack laughed. “I think I can do better than cereal. Scrambled eggs and bacon okay?”

Bob and Coach both cheered weakly.

 

Once they had breakfast, everyone’s spirits began to look up. Their flight back to Montreal was scheduled for the evening, so they had planned on heading to the airport late afternoon. Everyone agreed that it would be nice to just spend the morning relaxing and doing whatever they felt like.

Bob took a nap on the couch while the fireplace roared, and Shitty decided to work on his cross-stitch—an elaborate project featuring Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

“I’m going to head to the beach to take some photos, do you want to come with me?” Jack asked Coach.

“Sure, just give me a second to bundle up,” Coach replied.

They trudged through the snow and walked onto the beach. Coach closed his eyes and took in the sound of the waves.

“I hope it’s not too cold out here for you,” Jack said earnestly.

“No, it’s fine. I think I’m finally getting used to it,” Coach said and took a sip of his travel mug coffee.

“I don’t think Bits ever will,” Jack laughed, “so you already got him beat there.”

The two walked quietly, and Jack paused to take a picture of a rock formation near the water.

“How long have you been taking pictures?”

“My whole life, I guess, but really taking pictures, with a capital P, for the last five years or so.” Jack smiled. “You know, my pictures were one of the first clues that I had feelings for Bits.”

“How so?” Coach asked as he pulled his knit cap further down. The wind whipped around them.

“The midterm projects for one of my photo classes senior year, I was convinced I took portraits of the team. But everyone asked if Bits was the main subject.” Jack laughed softly. “And I was adamant that, no, it was the entire team… but they all saw what I didn’t.”

Coach smiled and clapped Jack on the back. “Sometimes, we’re the last to see what’s right in front of us, I suppose.”

Jack took a quick shot of a bird that flew overhead. “One kid in the class even said, ‘But this guy is in ALL of your photos.’ _Crisse_ , even the professor mentioned something. I was an idiot. Thank god for Papa.”

“You got there when you got there, Jack, and that’s all that matters. Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all,” Coach said.

Jack smiled. “That’s Herodotus, isn’t it?”

“You know it,” Coach said as he handed Jack the travel mug. Jack took a sip. The two smiled and looked out toward the crashing waves.

**+++**

The drive to the airport had been relatively easy and uneventful. By the time they reached their gate, they had about one hour to kill before boarding began.

Shitty excitedly ran to order some more poutine at the tiny food court.

“But Shits, it's fast food poutine.”

“Jacko, even bad poutine is good poutine.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad. Shitty, I’ll join you,” Bob said.

“They’ll be sorry later,” Jack said to Coach. “I’m heading the gift shop.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Jack walked over to the gift shop by their gate and Coach followed behind him. He perused the shelves and wondered which snacks to buy for the flight.

“All Dressed chips are the best chips,” Jack said as Coach examined a bag.

“I don’t know, Jack. Ketchup is pretty good, too.”

“Papa would agree with you there.”

Jack took a banana and then noticed a display of small stuffed animals. Coach watched as Jack smiled and pulled a squirrel from the pile. He put the banana and squirrel on the counter to pay.

Coach smiled, and Jack blushed when he noticed Coach’s reaction.

“Bun can finally have a brother. I know, it's dumb—”

“No, not at all, son.”

“I just know that he'd love it,” Jack said earnestly. “It'll make him happy.”

Coach knew that no matter what, Jack would always look after his son and be there for him. This man, this millionaire, Stanley Cup-winning NHL superstar, was really just a boy in love. Plain and simple. And any other lingering hesitation Coach had was gone in that instant. Jack Zimmermann adored Junior, and it was as clear as the sun in the sky and the moon up above.

“Yes, it will,” Coach replied and pulled Jack in for a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to [zim-tits](http://zim-tits.tumblr.com/) for these illustrations. Too cool for school! <3

**Author's Note:**

> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi. 
> 
> Come and say hi [on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).


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